iCan't Do This
by XxXxXxILuvNicoDiAngeloxXxXxX
Summary: Sam's done, she can't take how Carly takes whatever she has for advantage. So she breaks her ties with her two best friends and tries to leave, but a certain someone catches her...Seddie : M for language.
1. Chapter 1

**Right. I decided to do an iCarly fic. It's kind of dark, though. Seddie. Um, enjoy? R&R!**

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><p>She sighs, Running a hand through her tangled blonde curls. She's thinking how she got here, sitting on this old fire escape, crying her eyes out over a boy she swore she hates.<p>

She's singing, her soft voice ringing through the air.

"_I know I told you,_

_I hated you._

_I know I made you,_

_Believe…_

_I know,_

_That I was wrong,_

_And I shouldn't have said,_

_That._

_I would,_

_Just tell you,_

_How sorry I am,_

_But you've pushed me away,_

_And I can't blame you, now._

_I'd take it, _

_Back,_

_Just so I could,_

_See you smile again._

_I wish you here,_

_Your arms around me,_

_Telling me that,_

_It'll work out, _

_Someday._

_But now,_

_I've crushed it,_

_Yeah._

_I've done it again._

_I don't expect you,_

_To forgive me._

_I know,_

_You won't,_

_So it's okay…_

_I just want,_

_You to know, _

_That I love you, _

_And that I'd take back ,_

_Everything I said._

_It's from the, _

_Bottom of my heart, _

_So take it,_

_Please, take me away from here…"_

She's crying harder now, the last words she chokes on.

She knows her mascara is running down her face and she looks like a mess, and she knows he won't be there to fix her.

He won't help her piece her heart back together, holding her and telling her all she needs to hear. He won't rub those soothing circles on her back, or sing her a lullaby to stop her tears.

Not anymore.

She'd taken what they had and she'd broken it, like she knew she would. She _knows_ she's a bitch. She _knows_ she never deserved what she got.

Except this.

Oh, she deserved this.

She knows neither of her best friends will help her now, since she's made sure the other girl knows just how much she has, compared to her.

Oh, all the things she wishes she had, the other girl has thrown away, seeing them as small trinkets. All the pretty gold jewelry he'd gotten the other girl, she'd claimed to love, simply tossing it after.

She'd gone after the other girl, saving all of those necklaces and bracelets. She treasured them. She doubted he'd even realized. After all, she'd never told him, and as nice as he is, he himself is oblivious to the value and awe she hold for all the things they have.

They were both rich kids, unlike her. She scraped by, buying only what she _needed_. She stole only when she just couldn't afford it, but she always tried to pay the back, whether by a small favor or a seemingly random act of kindness.

It's not like her mother helped, she mused. No, her mother stole the little bit of money her daughter had, using it for drugs, sex, and beer. All that money she'd saved, collecting it when she found it dropped in random places, and doing odd jobs like mowing lawns, babysitting, or walking dogs.

Of course, she made it seem like she always had enough to her friends, pretending to enjoy the shopping and all the useless things the other girl bought. She wished she saw the world through their eyes, for it must be a beautiful place.

But she'd seen too much, knew to much, and _done_ too much to claim the innocence that so clearly shone from the other two. She'd done things the others scorned, and she'd pretended to agree, simply to help their fantasy lives progress with out a little bump like knowing some people had no choice, and that she was one of them.

She hated this, what she became. It wasn't always this bad, bad for the past two years everything's gone downhill. And she'd kept it all locked away for them. They didn't need to know how hard life could be, when you've got no other choice and nothing to sell to get enough money for food to live other then your own body.

So she never told them. Never told them all the things she'd done and still does, just to survive. She _acts_ like everything is _fine, _even when she wants nothing more then to curl up and just _die_ sometimes.

But she can't.

She's Sam Puckett, That's why she can't.

She's the strong one, the unbreakable. Nothing can faze her, throw as many punches as you like. You both know she's going to be the last one left standing, every time.

She knows now she has to go home, that she can't sit up here and cry anymore. He isn't going to come to her, and she needn't wait for him. So she stands, wiping the sleeve of her hoodie across her smudged face, at she flinches when her fingers brush across.

Her face is sticky, the kind of sticky when you cry your eyes out and your makeup is all down you face and all you need is someone there holding you. It slightly puffy, since she'd been crying for hours and she'd fallen on her way up. Her knee and her scraped palm throb with the memory.

She brushes the pain away, telling her self it is nothing but a message, and her phone is off the hook. So she stumbles down the rusty steps, praying to a god she never believed in that he won't see her out his window as she passes by, or if, even worse, it's open and he's sitting on sill like he does when he's upset.

She reaches his floor, and holds in a gasp. Luck, it seemed, was not on her side.

He's there, alright, and he's watching her. His chocolate brown eyes don't waver from her blue ones as he eases himself out and onto the escape with her. She knows she's begun to tremble, and she hates herself for appearing as weak as she did in front of him.

She watches him through the grating as he climbs, meeting her on the landing between the eighth and ninth floors. Pain rips through her when she sees that he, too, had been crying, his eyes red and trails from the tears running down his smooth, pale cheeks.

She backs up to let him have more room, so he's not on the edge. He moves with her, cornering her up against the wall, hands lightly pressed on either side of her waist.

All this time, they never looked away from each other. Finally, she can't take his searching stare and she breaks her gaze, choosing instead to study the hand she had subconsciously place on his chest when he'd gotten her pinned.

Her nails were dull, any traces of polish chipped off a week ago, and the tips clipped short. The ring he'd given her in the fifth grade rests on her ring finger, the small silver band carved so delicately in the shape of two hands holding her birthstone, a sapphire.

He finally speaks, his voice cracking as if the effort was causing him pain.

"Why?"

It was a simple word, really. Just one little syllable, but it held so much meaning. She heard the anguish in his voice, having know him for as long as she could remember. Nobody would have guessed, but she'd known him much longer then she'd known the other girl. The other girl had moved here - Seattle - in the fourth grade, when they'd all been ten.

Now, seven years later, the trio were inseparable. At least, they were, until she'd smashed the fragile bonds that held them together. She had to. She couldn't let them see how she's wasting away in this rough world, not when they were so happy. They'd get over her betrayal and forget, but they'd never forget the knowledge of how hard life can be and how little you can do when you're only seventeen and you can't afford enough food for you and your mom.

She's pulled out of her thoughts as his warm breath fans over her blushing face, the smell of mint making her nose tingles. He'd sighed when she hadn't answered. She gathered all her courage, raising her eyes to his. She blinks as her bangs slip over her eyes, and she's once again bathed in mint as he automatically blows them away.

She hopes he can't see how broken she is now. How in the past month she'd finally seen that no matter how hard she tried she was never going to make it. She was going to drop out, get a job, and support her mother as best she could. When her mother passed, she planned to simply take her own life. Why would she need it? She had nothing to live for.

Yes, she had a sister, but they were as alike as orange juice and toothpaste and got along just as well. Hell, her sister might just be _glad_ to see her gone, so she wouldn't have her as a blemish on her pristine reputation as her boarding school's golden scholar.

He shifts, again jolting her from her thoughts. His arms are closer, and one wraps around her waist to hold her in place while the other cups her cheek and wipes the tears that still seem to be flowing away.

"I know, I _know_ you don't mean a word of what you said, so don't try to defend yourself. I've known you for way too long, Princess, to not know when you're lying through your teeth and acting like it doesn't kill you like it does me. So please, just listen.

"I know you think you've been protecting us from the shit you go through on a daily basis, and, in a way, you are. You're taking all the pain and keeping it from hitting someone else. I can _see_ that though, and I _know_ what you've tried to do. You've protected Carly, but not me. I know you think I'm a sheltered, spoiled rich kid with a PearPhone and a PearPod and all the newest technology, oblivious to the pain and suffering of the world.

"Princess, you're wrong. I know what's going on, I won't try to deny I haven't done much to help it, but I know it's there."

Here he pauses, and she's stunned. She'd been wrong about him, and she didn't know why this still surprised her. He always finds a way to prove her wrong, whatever she thinks about him. If she thinks he's mean, he'll turn around with a random act of kindness for a complete stranger. Selfish? He'd given away all his old tech stuff to a homeless shelter and volunteered there, teaching them how to use it and create a web show to promote the shelter.

She opens her mouth to reply, but it's blocked when he rests his thumb over her lips.

"Sam." He sighs her name, and she fights the urge to throw her arm around his neck and kiss the life out of him. She'd tell him she'd loved him for as long as she can remember, but frankly, the thought scared her. It scared her shitless.

"I'm not an idiot. I know you don't want to do this to me, or too yourself. I'm sure you've probably convinced yourself it's all for the better, or something like that. I don't think you realize how much we need you, hell, _I_ need you. You're my best fried, and there isn't anyone else I'm closer too. Not even Carly. If you leave, you're taking a rather large chunk of me with you.

"I need to know _why_ you think you need to leave though. Why _now_? What's changed in the last month? As far as I know, Sam, _nothing_. So don't leave because you think you need to protect me, because I'm a big boy now. I can handle it. There isn't anything you could do that would make me even _start_ to dislike you either, so don't think it's that. So, please, explain." He finished.

She looked down at her other hand, mildly surprised to see it'd found it's way to his stomach. She can feel the muscles he'd somehow acquired in their sophomore year, when he'd inexplicably started to work out a lot and get much stronger. She could feel the ridges through the thin fabric of his penny tee. This one read _Peanut Tea_, which made no sense to anyone other then him and herself.

He'd made it after she'd drunkenly thrown peanuts at him and managed to knock the entire bowl into his iced tea when she laughed so hard she collapsed. He'd told her he made it to remember how genuinely _happy_ she'd sounded when she laughed that night, and that should have told her he'd known all along. But she still didn't know how much he knew now.

Did he know all the things she'd done? Or just what she'd gone through?

His hand slid down to her collar bone, playing with the charm on her necklace and jolting her, yet again, out of her thoughts. It's a simple silver chain, and she'd put the key to her house and the key to her room (she never trusted her mother) on it, along with the original pendent, a small rhinestone cleft note. She'd had it for a while, so most of the stones had fallen out.

She looked up at him again, and he gave her a broken smile. "Please," He murmured softy. "Don't do this. Tell me what happened." He leaned his head down, resting his forehead against her own.

She closed her eyes, gathering her resolve together. She opened them, finally realizing he'll never let her go without an explanation. This makes her angry, though. _Who does he think he is? Preventing her from leaving! Bullshit!_

She darkens her gaze to a glare, and he frowns. "Freddie, I don't know what you _think_ you know about me, but it's clearly _wrong._ I'm _fine._ I'm leaving because I _can._ Don't you _get it?_ I'm not a good person to get attached to. I've told you this, remember? Number one rule of Sam. Never expect me to be permanent or anything, I could leave at any moment. I'm just…bored, I guess." She says defiantly, and she has the feeling he knows she's lying through her teeth.

It's confirmed when he tenses, then his arms slip away and he backs up. She can tell he's pissed by the set of his shoulders, and how his mouth is a thin pink line, and he's avoiding her eyes, trying to control it. She feels terrible, she hates making him angry. She knows his temper can be as bad as her own, and that's no small feat. His fists are clenched, and she's mortified to hear a sob escape from her own mouth.

She's done crying, or she told herself she was. Her eyes are closed, and she misses how at that small whimper, a sound he's never heard in all his years of knowing her, all his anger dissolves, and it's replaced by a deep sorrow.

After all, he knows how strong she is. He knows it takes everything crashing down around her for even a single tear to escape, and here she is, bawling her eyes out. SO he closes the distance between them again, wrapping his arms around her.

She finally submits, throwing away her pride as she lets lose and cries into his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt in the fists she's made on his chest. He holds her tighter, shocked at her display of emotion. It's at that moment he sees she's more broken then he'd ever thought.

_What had happened to her?  
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	2. Chapter 2

**Firstly, I want to thank you guys. I got the most amazing reviews last chapter, this story easily being my most popular. I'm so happy my writing is as powerful and a few of you said, as I don't get emotional over stories (or movies, for that matter) very easily. Only if it's truly amazing work. So again, thanks to those who said that. I don't know how many words this chapter is, but here it is. It's in first person, my preferred writing style, from Freddie's Point Of View. Enjoy.**

***DISCLAIMER, FROM LAST CHAPTER TO THIS ONE TO THE REST OF THIS FIC: I'm not a man, and I don't have to check or anything, I just can tell you. Also, My name isn't Dan. Therefore, I can't possibly own iCarly, can I? Now I do own the plot, some of the spoof names to appear later on, the song in the previous chapter, and any and all OCs.**

**Now, enough delays! Read on, my lovelies 3**

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><p>Freddie's POV:<p>

I've never seen Sam cry before. Now I'm holding her as tight as I dare to while she cries her heart out into my shirt. I didn't think something as small as what happened would do this. It must be something more…

*FLASHBACK*

_Sam, Carly, and myself were in the iCarly studio preparing for our next show, Carly going through the colored index cards she'd written out, Sam upside-down on her bean bag gnawing on a chicken leg, and me on my laptop. _

"_We could do a segment on me and Sam debating over chickens and turkeys while hula-hooping…" Carly offers, and Sam snorts. _

"_The only thing I know about turkeys is that Momma loves a nice fat one for thanksgiving." She says, and I look up from the screen, smiling to myself. Her blonde curls are strewn out from her head, giving her a halo effect. Her blue eyes are shining as she catches my gaze and smirks._

"_Need something, Fredlumps?" She asks, laughing. I return her smirk._

"_Depends, Princess. Do you have an off switch? You've been tapping your foot to whatever song you're listening to for the past hour." I shoot back, and she glares playfully at me, throwing her wadded up napkin. _

_I easily doge, nudging her head phone out of her ear with my foot. Reacting with lighting reflexes, she grabs my foot and tugs, forcing me to quickly shut my laptop and slide it off my lap and onto the floor as she pulls me off my beanbag completely. _

_Carly watches with amusement as Sam tosses her chicken bone off to the side, wipes her hands and face on a napkin and flips over her own beanbag. She lands on my legs, quickly twisting and pinning my wrists down. She's straddling my waist, her blonde hair hanging like a veil and tickling my cheeks. _

_She smirks, thinking she's won, again. I debate letting her win, like I always do, but decide against it this time. Granted, she's strong, but I've gotten stronger in the past two years or so. I free my wrists, grabbing her waist and flipping her over, suspending myself above her. Her eyes are wide in shock, small pink lips parted in surprise. I laugh quietly._

"_You didn't honestly think, after all these years, I haven't gotten stronger at all?" I ask playfully. She jerks, trying to free her wrists, but to no avail. I let her squirm for a few minutes before letting her up. She's flushed, and I'm surprised to see how it looks like that wore her out. _

_She's been like that a lot, lately. Even little things wear her out, like she isn't getting enough sleep… I shook the thought away. _She's Sam…strongest girl I know. She's fine.

_She sighs, pushing her hair back and smiling tiredly at me. "Fine, Freddison. You got muscles. Happy?"_

_I smirked at her, and Carly laughed. _

"_Okay guys, enough playing. Time to-damn!" Carly had stood up and went to straighten her shirt, cropping her PearPhone in the process. She bent down and picked it up, groaning. The screen had spider webbed. "Spencer!" She called._

"_Yeah, kiddo?" His voice replied, echoing from the stairs. _

"_I dropped my phone again! The screen's all messed up!" She called back. This is the second time this month. She can be so careless…Sam actually takes better care of her stuff then Carly does, it's weird._

"_Just pull out the SIM, I'll order you a new one in a minute and go pick it up." Spencer must have bought her ten phones already this year…The Shay's don't really flaunt it or anything, but they're loaded. Spencer makes more on his sculptures then he lets on…_

_Sam frowned at Carly, seeing the other simply dump the expensive phone in the trash after she'd pulled the SIM card out. I noticed Sam was playing with the charm on her own outdated cell. Carly sighed, "It's so annoying how those cheap PearPhones just break. I want a Okien!" _

_She was naming the latest & greatest in cell phones, a paper-thin fully touch-screen, sleek phone with access to every website with super-fast loading, and the ability to see live streaming television, broadcast wifi connectivity to like four other devices, and still keep a full battery for like a day and a half. Of, course, this was made for the insanely rich…_

_Sam, who's expression had been getting more and more devastated, flipped a switch. She just completely blew up. "Are you _kidding_ me?" She shrieked. "You have a _PearPhone! _I'd_ kill _for a phone like that! I mean, come on, Carly! I love you, but you are such a spoiled _brat_! You have _everything_ and you complain all the time! I struggle for everything I have and you're _throwing_ your phone _away_ because it has a cracked _screen_. How shallow can you _be_, Shay?_

"_I'm sorry, but I just can't handle it! You've become such a fucking _bitch!" _Sam never swears around Carly if she can help it… "And Freddie!" My eyes widen as she rounds on me, too. "You also get everything you've ever wanted! Your mom waits on you hand and foot because she loves you so goddamn much it's _creepy! _I _wish_ my mom loved me! She's so out of it all the time she thinks I'm my _sister!_" At least I know why she hates Melanie now, even though her sister never did anything to her… _

"_I _hate_ it! I'm done, okay? I'm leaving. don't try to find me, you won't be able to." She spun on her heel, her sapphire eyes filled with tears, and stormed from the room. Carly and I stared after her, both of us in shock. _

*END FLASHBACK*

After Sam left, I'd gone home and locked myself in my room. I'd been sitting on the windowsill when I'd heard her stumbling down the fire escape, and glanced up to see her beautiful face soaked in tears and running make-up. I'd begged her to tell me, but she's just lied, saying she got "bored." I didn't believe her for a second.

I don't think she knew how easy it is for me to tell if she's lying. No one, not even Carly, knows. Except me. It's an honor, I guess, to be able to see through one of the best liars, if not _the_ best, I know. I need to know what really made her so…vulnerable. This isn't a side of Sam I've seen before, and it's not something I like. Granted, it's nice to know she has feelings and isn't the blonde demon-girl like she has the world believe.

I know she's done things no one on this earth should have to, and also that if I told and tried to help, she'd run away. I hate that her mom does nothing and that it's gotten this bad and gone on for so long. Was it that, then? Did Sam, the Unbreakable…finally crack? Impossible as it seems, unless something else has happened, it's the only plausible explanation.

I placed a kiss on top of her disheveled blonde curls, rubbing her back and rocking slightly to calm her. I'd volunteered at enough preschools to know how to care for crying people.

Finally, after another fifteen or so minutes (Not counting, who would with the vivacious blonde in their arms, especially when she's crying?), Sam calms down and her cries fall to mere hiccups and sniffs, until…silence. I don't stop rocking or soothing, and she stays in my arms without a fight. Her hands relax, though, and she turns her face upwards to my own. I stop moving, just regarding her. She's pale, and it contrasts with the flushed cheeks and puffed, red eyes from crying.

She's speechless, she isn't used to this, I guess. She doesn't cry, she doesn't get held. She doesn't experience love, even in basic forms, from anyone other then Carly and I. She yawns, and I notice the bags under her eyes and how drawn she looks.

"Sam," I murmur, and she pauses, looking up at me almost fearfully. I run a hand through her hair, and she relaxes a bit, sensing I'm not mad. "Sam, let me ask my mom to let you stay over, okay? I'm not going to lie. You look like shit, and you clearly need sleep. Please, Sam?" I ask, and her eyes widen.

She fights me then, but I hold her still. "Freddie, no! My mother-"

I cut her off with ease. "Your mom will be fine for one night, Sam. You need sleep. Please let me help you. I'm begging!" I capture her chin, gently shifting her face so she can see the look on my face. Finally, after stifling another yawn, she caves, reluctantly. I smile, and she huffs, pushing on my chest lightly. I let her go for the most part, keeping only her wrist.

I climb in my window, calling my mom. She comes in, her eyes wide and alert. "What is it, Freddie? Did my baby boy see a spider? Mommy will kill it for yo-"

"Mom!" I say exasperatedly. Her overprotective, over-, well, everything attitude was annoying at best, and I wasn't in the mood to be four again. "Mom, relax. I need Sam to stay over tonight, I can use the pull-out bed in my sofa."

I can see my mom's expression turn from mild concern to borderline hysteria and anger, and I slam my hand down on my desk. The movement startles her, and the hysteria is lost. She's pissed.

"FREWWARD BENSON. DO NOT ACT ANGRY WITH ME!" She starts, and I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"MOM!" I shout, and she takes a step back, startled at my ferocity. "Mom," I begin more calmly. "I'm seventeen. I'm not your little boy anymore. I can move out in five months. I WILL move out in five months. I love you, but just stop. I can't deal with your crazy rules tonight." Her face is priceless, shell-shocked and angry.

I Turn my back on her, reaching up and taking Sam's hand, bringing her gently off the steps she waited on and pulling her inside. I can lift her way too easily, and I frown. My mom is still at my door, but she has a defeated loom about her. Finally, she sighs, closing the door softly and walking away.

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><p><strong>I know how short this is. In my defense, it's like three pages in MicroSoft Word (not mine, just a copy...). Sorry. I wanted to post something, and the next part might be in either Sam's or Carly's POV. You guys decide, okay? Review! Haha. Also, take my poll! :D<br>I'll post the next chapter once I've decided who will be telling it, and I promise to make it longer. Also, ASAP. Haha, thanks for reading :)  
><strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Well. With a unanimous vote of Sam's POV, here it is, my dears:**

Sam's POV:

Freddie lifts me gently into his room, and I know I'm blushing profusely. He sets me down lightly, leaving his hands on my waist.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that," He says. "But I've had enough. "

I give him a weak smile, and he mimics me. He rubs a thumb against my cheek, and I close my eyes, sighing. I regret pushing him away, as he was everything I needed. He was the sun in my otherwise dark world, and Carly just the small stars. I loved her, she was my best friend, but not nearly as important as Freddie. I kept my distance and hid my feelings well, because that was how I was. I'm not supposed to care, or even feel. I'm supposed to be violent, funny, crazy, demon Sam. So I am.

I punch, and I laugh at others' pain. I use my butter sock as often as I can, and I crack jokes all day. I layer everything I say and do with venom and sarcasm. I poke fun at everything Freddie does and says, rewarded with a glare or his signature smirk as he turn it back on me. He's gotten better in the past two years, retaliating with quick wit, smart comebacks, and jokes of his own. We're quite the pair, I've heard, and that our playful bickering is a sight to see and always makes you laugh.

It's fun to argue with him, he brings up points I wouldn't have thought of by myself and he fires back insults as easily as he smiles. I loved his personality, and his crazy ways. He never said 'one' when we counted down for iCarly, he never wore long sleeves alone. He always made sure everything was perfect for his mom, even though she was crazy. He had the biggest heart out of anyone I'd ever known, and his eyes…oh, his gorgeous brown eyes. You could see your soul in his eyes sometimes, and I knew how he felt whenever he looked at me.

I'm going to miss him when I leave. I'll be leaving half of myself, almost. He was my sanity, for one, and I hope I wouldn't need it too badly when I left. But I had to leave. My mother was almost arrested twice this week alone, and it's only Friday. She still has the entire weekend to fuck me over again. She'd be home alone tonight, and I shuddered at the thought.

What if she drank to much, passed out, and hurt herself again? What if her current fling hurt her? What if she broke something and got in trouble again? What if, what if. The list was endless. I was so worried. Just thinking of the possibilities gave me a headache, and I pressed my fingers to my temples to try and ease the pounding.

Freddie, who had pulled out the bed and thrown sheets over it during my musings, caught sight of me. I squeezed my eyes shut and turned away.

"Sam, what's wrong?" concern filled his voice, and when he spun me around, I saw that it filled his eyes as well. He took in my expression as well as where my hands were in second, and headed straight for his bathroom, returning seconds later with Advil and cup of water. I took both gratefully, swallowing the drug quickly.

"Thanks, Freddie." I mumbled, and was rewarded with a sweet smile.

"Anytime, Sam." He replied. He took my hand, pulling me to the sofa bed and sitting me down next to him. "But, please, can you tell me what's going on?"

I _knew_ there was a catch. I stood up, brushing off his hand and glaring. His concern changed to confusion.

"Sam! Sam, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. You don't have to tell me right now." He pleaded. I forced my glare into a more withering, venomous look. He reach a hand out, and I stepped back.

"Don't _touch_ me!" I snarled, backing up to, of course, because it's me, _a wall_. No escape for this one. She's just too stupid to go for the door or window. She hits the _wall_ instead…

He's already up, carefully staying a good two feet away. I inwardly cheered. This gave me room to speed by. Then he put his arms on either side of me again. Damn. I could resort to biting him, but that was low. Then again, he tricked me into staying so he could get the information he wanted. But I wasn't going to give in to that trick. I dropped down, hoping to slip underneath him, gasping when I was blocked again. He grabbed my waist swiftly, pulling towards him and locking his arms around me.

Suddenly, I realized he'd been talking this entire time. He'd been repeating something, a single word, just one little syllable. _Sam. _His tone is pleading, and he adds please to his chant.

"Please, Sam. Please, please, Sam. Sam!" He's begging me. I stop struggling, my strength exhausted. I couldn't fight him anymore tonight, and I was furious. I knew I was crying again, and he held me tightly. He turned me in his arms, still keeping a good grip. I mustered up my last bit of energy, hitting him repeatedly on the chest, pushing, trying to get free.

My head started to spin, until finally the day took it toll and I faded to blackness in his arms.

I woke to darkness, discovering Freddie had tucked me in his sofa bed. Said boy was at his desk, typing away at his laptop. Careful not to make any noise, I sat up. Glancing at the clock I saw it was past two in the morning. Freddie sighed, leaning back and running a hand over his tired face. He looked frustrated. I tilted my head, noticing as I did so, my hair fell forward in tangles. I ignored it, for now, as it wasn't important. Freddie was reading something, and his eyes narrowed as they flashed across the screen.

Finally, after staring at the screen for a few minutes, he began typing again. The soft tapping of the keys was the only sound besides our breathing. As he leaned back again, his hand lifted, playing with the cord of the headphones I just noticed he had plugged in. He looked irritated at something, and angling my head a bit, I saw he was chatting with someone. I could see who or what was said from this far, but I saw the chat window.

I wondered who he was talking to, and why he looked so upset…Suddenly, it seemed he'd had enough. He reached forward and closed his laptop with a snap, tugging the headphones out of his ears and tossing them on the top. He turned to me, and jumped when he saw me up. I raised an eyebrow, wrapping my arms around my legs and pulling them up to my chest.

"Sam! You're up! How do you feel?" He asked, the concern back in his voice. I considered the question, mulling it over in my head lazily. How _did _I feel? My head ached a little, I was hungry. I was surely dehydrated after all the tears…I chose not to answer, instead inquiring who he was talking to. He studied me, coffee brown irises scanning my face. After a long pause, he sighed lightly.

"Carly. I was chatting with Carly. About you, Sam." He says, locking his gaze with mine. I can feel my cheeks heat, and I pray the dim light from Freddie's window isn't bright enough to show it. I fidgeted, nervous under the intensity of his eyes. He spoke again, his voice quiet, but still full of a mix of emotions I couldn't discern.

"She's mad, but she's worried too. Says you had no right to say what you did, and that I could tell you that. Also, she wants you to know that-" He stopped abruptly, a flash of sadness coming over him. "-That…she thinks you're just jealous." He spoke as if it caused him actual pain, and his eyes filled with sympathy. I merely nodded, silently taking the news in. Good, she'll move on quickly.

He stared at me, not saying anything for a few minutes. Finally, "Sam, what are you thinking? Why are you doing this? Don't you get it? We love you. We don't want to see you hurt. We need you, Sam. Both of us. Carly may not express it, but every time you guys get in a fight, she's a mess without you. And if you aren't here, who's going to play pranks on me and help me keep my wits and reflexes sharp?" He never broke eye contact through his little speech, and I knew that even with the darkness he probably saw my blush.

"Freddie…" I mumbled, running a hand through my hair and pushing it out of my face tiredly. "I'm sorry. I am. But…there isn't any other option. Trust me, I've looked."

"Yes, actually, there is. You could swallow your damn pride and ask for help. Clearly, you can't handle this on your own. Let me help you. God knows my family is freakin' loaded thanks to my mom's nursing job and my inheritance from my dad's side." Freddie said, beginning to look frustrated.

I narrowed my eyes dangerously. "What," I spat, my voice dripping with venom. "Did you just say?"

Not playing dumb, Freddie frowned. "I said you can't do this by yourself, not this time."

I screamed, throwing myself at Freddie with my hands outstretched.**  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Guys…Jeez, I'm so sorry. I had laptop troubles, since the power cord or the battery is shot on this one. I can't unplug it from the wall or it dies immediately. That last time it died, it deleted part of this. Thankfully, Microsoft Works went into recovery mode and retrieved it, but I forgot what I was going to put and had to improvise. I still don't know what I was going to do, but I like how this came out anyways. <strong>

**And if it isn't too much to ask, please head over to my profile and take that poll for me, would ya? Computer troubles notwithstanding, I can write up to like five stories at once. Go ahead and pick your favorites. Thanks :)**

**Well, you know the drill. R&R.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I have no decent excuse for my lack of updates. But here's a chapter.**

**Sam's POV:**

Freddie easily caught me around the waist, but my momentum sent us tumbling back. He rolled quickly enough to make me dizzy, pinning my hands by my head. I squirmed, and raised a knee to hit him where the sun don't shine. He intercepted me easily, straddling my waist and smirking.

"Sam. You can't win against me anymore. I'm sorry." He said softy, still wearing that infuriating smirk. I jerked my wrist, twisting it out of my grip and slapping him. He instantly grabbed my wrist again, but his eyes were on fire, mouth in a harsh scowl.

He leaned down, pressing me into his sheets, and gave me the coldest glare. I shivered.

"Listen. To. Me. You are _not_ invincible, Sam, regardless of how much you may _think_ you are. You're human, and you have weaknesses. Just. Like. Everyone. Else." His tone is icy, and his eyes are hard. "You need to accept that you need help. And I'm here to give it. Let me in, Sam! Let me in your head!"

I let out a wordless cry, stopped struggling and went limp. I knew, for the yet another time that night, warm tears were coursing down my face. His expression softened, but he didn't let me up.

He knew better.

Just because I was crying didn't mean I'd lost my anger.

He held me there as I cried, suspending himself just above me so as not to squish me. A small part of my mind admired his endurance, but the rest was still pissed and upset with him. Who did he think he was? I could handle this myself, I didn't need his help! I'd find a way! I always did.

I didn't need him.

And yet, a small part of me, in the back of my mind, cried out. What did I have to lose? What right did I even have to pride? I'd done the most degrading things, and yet I refused help for the sake of pride?

What was wrong with me?

I felt something inside me break, and all the fight leaked out through the gaping hole it left. I unclenched my fists, and Freddie slid off of me. I curled onto my side, my face in my hands and the sobs racked through my body. I heard him sigh, and he pulls me closer.

And then I'm in his lap, and he's running a hand through my hair, untangling it with his fingers, the other arm holding me in place. My face is buried in his shoulder, and his scent washes over me. He smells like dark chocolate and citrus, a strangely amazing mix that just so _Freddie._

He doesn't say anything, and all the tension is gone from his body as he simply holds me. Then there's a thump by the door, and he stiffens. I pull away, and we both stare. Slowly, oh so slowly, he slides me off of his lap and onto the bed, carefully standing, and soundlessly heads to the door. He brings a finger to his lips, something I can still see even though all we have is the weak Seattle moonlight through his window.

And his hand rests on the knob, where he hesitates for the briefest second, than wrenches it open forcefully. Carly and his mom tumble into his room, and I'm surprised he doesn't break the knob his hand's so tightly gripping it.

He releases it, raising is hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes tight. Carly stares up at him in shock, then turns her gaze to me. I can see the annoyance in her eyes and I flinch. His mother scrambles up, babbling excuses I don't hear. The muscles in Freddie's arms tense, and I can feel the waves of anger rolling off of him from where I'm seated several feet away.

"What," He grounds out, voice strained. "The _hell_ do you think you're doing?"

Carly's perfectly sculpted brows draw together in confusion, then dip and her clear brown eyes narrow. Even angry, she still looks perfect.

"I think the better question is what are _you_ doing, Freddie?" She asks, voice dripping with venom. "Why is she here? She's just a jealous, crazy bitch."

I felt my own eyes narrow. Freddie's eyes snap open and his mouth opens, but I beat him to it.

"Funny, coming from the selfish brat." I spat. She's standing, now, and she whirls to me.

"Shut up, at least I'm not some blonde demon girl with violence issues." She fires back.

"At least _I'm _not a backstabbing, shallow, _bitch!"_ I scream back.

"You're right!" Carly snarls, and her face takes on a sadistic look. "But I'm not a cheap, trailer trash, dirt-poor, ugly, disgusting, violent, mannerless, unclassy, stupid, vicious _whore_ with mommy issues and a need for attention."

I jerked back, feeling like I'd just been slapped. Tears spring annoyingly to my eyes yet again tonight, and I bite my lip and turn away.

"Fine." I mumble softly. "Maybe I am. I'm sorry for infecting your perfect, shiny life with my awful presence. You won't have to deal with me anymore."

Because there's only so much I can take before I give in, and she's hit that limit and blown it to pieces. At least she saw me for what I was, at least she didn't lie. I turn my face away, letting my hair act as a curtain. I can hear Freddie yelling, but I can't bring myself to comprehend his words. Mechanically, I stand up and head for the window.

I silently slip out, shivering in the cold breeze and making my way down slowly, gaining speed as I go. And then I hit the ground running, arms and legs pumping, a part of me praying that I could just outrun it all and finally be free. I can see my house from here, and I push myself faster.

It's not until I'm a house away when I register the flashing lights and the sirens. My mother is being dragged outside by two burly cops, screaming profanities at the top of her lungs, my name thrown in here and there, smoke from her many cigarettes wafting behind her, leaving a wispy trail. She catches my eyes, and cackles gleefully, pointing with a bony finger.

"_There she is!" _She howls. "It's _her_ fault! _She's_ the one who's been taking customers and money! _She's_ the one you wanna arrest! I'm innocent! That little _bitch _is the one!"

Her short blonde hair is mussed, her once-striking blue eyes faded and wild. Her clothes hang off of her thin frame, much like my own. She gives off the impression of hysterical insanity, frantic, jerky movements and a chilling voice.

Then I see the two cops heading for me, and without thinking, I turn around and sprint as fast I can. I don't know where to go, but I need to get away. I can't go to Freddie's, I just create problems. Carly's is out, I now know what she truly thinks. Gibby's just a random kid, he can't help.

It's now I wish I'd made more friends. But Carly's always been the popular one. I'd been the sidekick. And I'd never minded. Staying in the shadows made it easier to hide the bruises and scars, after all. The ones I couldn't hide I made up stories for.

Turns out, though, it left me broken and running for everything I have with nowhere to go and no one to save me. Or so I think, until I'm caught around the waist by strong arms it takes me a second to place.

I'd been running blindly, and hadn't seen him or heard him call my name, but now Freddie's got me locked tight in his embrace, refusing to let me go despite my struggles. His voice breaks through my panic, and I can see the cops catch up to us.

"-am! Sam, stop! Stop struggling! Sam! SAM!" Freddie's yelling, and I do the only thing I can think of.

I scream.

Freddie's hand clamps down over my mouth, muffling my scream as he turn me around swiftly enough to make me dizzy. Before I can react he has my face in between his hands, forcing me to look at him.

"Calm. Down." He commands, eyes serious, jaw hard, brown hair tousled, and cheeks flushed from running. I gulp in a few breaths, closing my eyes and forcing my emotions down and control back over myself. I realize I'm shaking when his hands slide down to my upper arms, and his firm grip steadies me.

One of the cops clears her throat, and I step away from him. He releases me easily, except for my hand. The uniformed woman steps forward, nodding to Freddie but not removing her eyes from me.

"We have reason to believe you have participated in drug trafficking, as well as underage drinking and illegal use of prescription drugs." She said emotionlessly. Freddie tenses, and I let out a slow breath.

"On what grounds?" I inquire calmly. "My crackwhore of a mother?" Shock flashes across her face before she recovers her mask of indifference, and I smirk. She seemed like the kind of woman who wanted, and got, shit done when she said it, how she said it, and still didn't lift a finger. She probably was expecting a tearful confession of some kind, maybe me blaming it on my deadbeat mother.

I love proving people wrong.

"So you are indeed Samantha Puckett?" She asks arrogantly. I snorted, and she raised an eyebrow.

"No, my name is Missy Robinson." I said sincerely. "I'm so glad you asked, I don't want to be confused me with that disgusting Sam girl."

Freddie gave my hand a warning squeeze, and I wound our fingers together in reassurance, an unspoken _I know what I'm doing._

The second cop stepped forward, and my sickly sweet smile fell. I would have been able to talk my way out of it if this wasn't the same cop who was present for both of my sentences to juvie and one of my arrests. He was a big, burly, dark-skinned man with a permanent glare and a temper the size of Mount. Everest.

"Hi, George." I groaned, and he nodded minutely in recognition before grabbing my arm forcefully and yanking me away from Freddie.

"Hey! Wait - Sam!" Freddie exclaimed, and George grunted.

"Freddie, stop." I told him quietly. He stared at me, incredulous, one hand out towards me. "Go home. I'll see you sometime later."

"Sam!" He said again, taking a step forward.

"Freddie, no! Please!" I reply, my voice rising a few octaves. I force myself to even it out. "I'll be fine. I'll call you later."

He opens his mouth to reply, but George has apparently had enough, as he pushes past Freddie and drags me to the squad car that just pulled up. Shoving me in the back seat, he slams the door and gets in the passenger side. I sigh, pulling my knees up and dropping my head into them.

**Tada! Dedicated to cocoa85715, who sent me the most lovely review and reminded me to update this :) Hope you enjoyed! :D**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I'm trying to make up for my crazy update schedule by pretty much just updating each story. Here's this one. R&R. Don't own shit but George.**

The ride back to my house doesn't take long, barely five minutes. I don't say anything, neither does the cop driving, George, or the ant on my foot.

Sometimes I think there's something wrong with me. More so than is obvious, anyways.

The door is opened, and I'm pushed to the side as my mother is forced in. She's silent, and I can feel the icy wave of fear prickle up my spine. Then the door is shut and the car starts again. For a few seconds, everything is still. Then she turns her head slowly, oh so slowly, to face me.

Her eyes are red and bloodshot, and I can smell the scent of drugs, sex, and cheap liquor from her skin and breath even though I'm sitting a good foot away, squished by the other door. Her short blonde hair is tousled, her teeth yellowed from years of cigarettes.

"Just gonna leave me there, were you? Ungrateful little bitch." She says, staring straight ahead. I wince, sighing.

"It'd be your own damn fault, mom." I reply tiredly.

"Don't take that tone with me!" She screams, spinning to face me.

"Don't get arrested!" I scream back.

"LADIES!" George bellows, and we fall silent.

The rest of the ride is tense and silent, and my mom is hauled out and handcuffed. I'm led out a little more gently, but they clamp handcuffs on me as well, ignoring my requests for looser cuffs.

We're led to an interrogation room, and I'm first. I sit on the chair, having stepped through my hands so I can place them comfortably in my lap. A female officer is let in, and she takes a seat across me, setting down a thick file.

"Samantha Puckett?" She asks. She's a lot softer then most of the cops, warm green eyes and soft brown hair pulled into a loose bun. Her face is open and innocent, and she wears a simple pink blouse with a black pencil skirt.

"Sadly," I reply, dropping my gaze to the table, and, more specifically, the size of that folder.

"I have the records for both you and your mother, as well as the charges that were placed today. Is there anything you want to ask?" She says, tapping the folder when she mentions the records.

"Actually," I look back up at her. "Yeah. How'd you catch her?"

"So you aren't denying the charges?" She presses.

"Lady, I don't even know her charges. I want to know what caused the cops to show up and drag my mother kicking and screaming, literally, from our house." I say, moving my hands to the table and leaning forward.

"We had a call from a Carly Shay, and she reported illegal drug use and willing prostitution from both a minor and the guardian. She said to tell you she'd known for a while." She says, and I can't withhold my gasp of shock.

"Please tell me you're joking…that bitch! Sorry." I tack on a quick apology when she winces, but she gestures for me to continue. "Look, I got in a fight with her earlier this week and she's crazy bitter. Willing prostitution? Do I look like a crack whore? Because that's bullshi- ah, lies. I'm not denying my mom's charges, because to be honest with you, I haven't been home for a day or so and she can get up to a lot when she wants to. I've managed to keep her relatively legal so far, but this is just nuts."

She looks taken aback, and I smile sweetly. I might like her better then the others, but it doesn't mean I won't fuck with her head.

"So you know the girl who called?" She asks finally. I stare at her flatly, with a look that clearly says 'No shit.' "Okay, and you say your mom is, in fact, selling herself and trafficking illegal substances?"

"If you mean crack, weed, and whoring, then I wouldn't exactly be _surprised_ if that's what you're asking." I tell her, the weight of condemning my mother resting heavily on my shoulders. It's the last thing I want, but I know she'll be safer in custody then anywhere else and that I don't plan on staying in Seattle much longer.

"And for yourself, would you be willing to take a polygraph?" She asks.

"Can minors take those?" I muse. "Nevermind. Sure, whatever. It's not like I have much to hide, you've pretty much ransacked my life story just now."

She winces again, and I ignore it, playing with the cuticle on my left thumb.

"I think you're free to go. We'll contact you when we need you." She says, face slightly white. I stand, striding out of the room and presenting my wrists to George, who reluctantly unlocks the cuffs. Smiling brightly at him, I take my leave of the station.

I don't want to go home, and Carly's - backstabbing bitch - place is no longer an option. To Freddie's it is.

God, that's weird.

~Seddie~

I knock on the door, shifting my weight from foot to foot. I know Carly's home, I can hear her on the phone. And then the sounds cuts off, and I'm silently begging Freddie to open the _damn door already _when she opens her own.

"What's a matter? Mommy in jail already?" She asks, sickly sweet. I cringe, turning to face her.

"You would know about that, wouldn't you?" I ask bitterly. "Tell me, how'd you guess?"

"I followed you to your shitty little hovel and watched her sell you to some guy for sex and a bag of drugs. Honestly, Sam, if that's even your name, who are you? Why did you think you could just be friends with people like Freddie and I? We're so high above you it's sad. I mean, I know your pathetically lonely," Here she gives me a pitying look, taking in my worn penny tee, another inside joke between Freddie and I when it reads _Mustard Baby_, my torn jeans and my scuffed knock-off converse.

And then she continues. "But honestly, the only reason either of us stuck around is because you're _so _pathetic, it's like kicking a baby. But I guess I'm a baby kicker now, because I can't stand how you treat us like shit when you _are _shit. I'll tell you to call me when you grow up, but I forgot, you're phone probably doesn't even work it's so obsolete."

"What the hell is your _problem_,you crazy _bitch?" _I ask, infuriated. "I'm _so sorry _I'm not some rich preppy airhead like you, but at least I have a damn _heart!_ Did you really think I was going to take all of your shit laying down? Are you _stupid?_ I _will _get revenge, believe you me. You will regret that fucking call with every fiber of your being when I'm done with you. You will by on your _knees_, _begging _me for mercy. And I will stare down at you, and I will ask you where the _fuck _all that mercy was when you tore my life to _pieces _and continued to be a total _bitch_ all because _I'm not good enough for you."_

I'm breathing hard when I finish, chest heaving and face flushed. She looks terrified, and I smile dangerously. She slams her door in my face - I'd taken a few steps forward just to scare her - and I can hear the tumbler click and her multiple locks being set.

"…Damn." I jump, spinning, and see Freddie leaning against his doorframe, arms crossed and a small, sad smile on his face. "Well done, I was wondering when you'd stand up to her again."

"How long have you been standing there?" I ask, brows drawing together in worry.

"Long enough," He says, pushing off the door frame and stepping into the hall. He drops his forehead to mine, closing his eyes and sighing as he wraps his arms around my waist.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that." I say softly, playing with the collar of the blue plaid shirt he's changed into. I don't have to look up to know he's opened his eyes, but I do when he chuckles.

"What?" I ask defensively, about to shove him away. As if sensing this, he tightens his arms briefly, letting me know that's not going to happen.

"Nothing, it's just you shouldn't be sorry. She's being a bitch, and I've no idea why, but it's not your fault. I'm actually glad to hear you put her in her place. I love that you're strong enough to fight your own battles, you know that." He tells me, and I tip my head back a little to look him in the eyes directly, he doesn't release me, but he pulls away enough so there's a few inches of space between us. I don't give myself a chance to think, because I'll chicken out like I always do, and when he says he loves me, even a part of me, it's a reaction I can't hold back.

So I press my lips to his, and I can feel him smile into the kiss as he responds hungrily. It's a short kiss, but it's fiery and it's a release of all the emotions I've had pent up. He tastes like he smells, which would normally be weird but is somehow only intoxicating as he slips his mouth to the corner of mine and begins trailing kisses over my face.

My eyes are closed, and a blissful calming feeling in on me as his lips brush my nose, cheeks, forehead, eyelids. It's soft and innocent, and it's exactly what I need right now. I don't know why we broke up so long ago, only that I'd regretted it for years.

"I love you, Sam. Always have, always will." He says, lips brushing my ear, and I shiver. Normally, I would've been scared, would've run away. But nothing's been normal lately, and where's the fun in normal, anyways? So I kiss him again fiercely, and when we pull away, breathless, I tuck my head into his neck and tell him what I've been dying to tell him for a long, long time.

"I love you, Freddie Benson. With all of my heart, even if that's not a smart thing to do, giving it all to one person. But it's not like I had a choice, it wasn't even mine to begin with. It was always yours." It's sickeningly sappy, and so out of character for me to admit that. We both know it, but I am a teenage girl who's life has just been yanked out from under her and who only wants a single, stable thing in the remains. So I think I'm entitled to spill my guts if I think I can actually keep this happiness this time.

Of course, that's when his mother shows up.

**This story's nearing ten thousand words, my longest one yet. I plowed through the scene in the station, and I actually quite like it. Once I got past the squad car, it came relatively easily. So awesome, I'm back to writing this effortlessly. **

**Lemme know what you thought, and any predictions or ideas you have. Anything you want to see? Let me know, and I'll see what I can do :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hello again. I'm doing well on the updating, so far :D EDIT: I LIED I SUCK I'M SORRY I LOVE YOU GUYS.**

**Do me a favor, check out the poll on my profile? Thanks! **

**Also, my profile is the place to check on story stats, approximate updating (EDIT: based on my current abilities at time of updating), and new projects. You might want to check it out. **

**Enjoy, R&R **

FREDDIE

The absolute first chance I get, I'm moving. And I'm taking Sam with me.

"FREDWARD BENSON! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" My mom screams shrilly, and I look up from wear I'd been nuzzling Sam's ear.

""Holding the girl I love." I state flatly, and her face drains of all color.

"That…that _harpy_? What about Carly? She's a _nice_, lovely girl. An upstanding citizen. _She's_ never been arrested!" She shouts, near-hysterical. Sam stiffens in my arms, and I hold her tighter.

"Sam isn't shallow, she's got a mind of her own, she's beautiful, she's independent, she can hold her own, and she's the most amazing girl I know. Tell me, can Carly match up to that?" I say, and I can feel Sam's smile and the heat in her cheeks as she keeps her head in my neck. Carly's door flies open, revealing a livid Carly who had clearly been listening at the door.

"Eavesdrop much?" I growl, and she flinches. "Mom, didn't you say that was wrong? Very model citizen frowned upon, if you ask me. Lying bitch approved, though, so you're in luck."

"_Excuse me?" _Carly screeches, face bright red.

"Don't play dumb, it doesn't suit you." I say, and Sam pulls away to face it all.

"She isn't playing." Sam deadpans, and I fight a grin, slinging my arm over her shoulder easily.

"Freddie!" My mom scolds, and we all ignore her.

"So you refuse me…for _that?"_ Carly seethes, pointing a slim, perfectly painted nail at Sam.

"If by that, you mean this amazing woman beside me, then yes, I do." I fire back, not missing a beat and dropping a kiss on Sam's ear after the statement. She blushes intensely, but her glare doesn't waver as we both watch Carly.

"_Woman?"_ Carly says scathingly. "That's a _thing_. It doesn't deserve a gender. Hell, why is it even named? I know it's a worthless whore, but I guess her customers want to say something when they ask her how much."

"Okay, that's it." Sam states, darting forward and slamming her fist into Carly's perfect nose and then shoving her back and shutting the door. She dusts off her hands, and turns to face my mom.

"Yes, I have been arrested. Yes, I'm a bitch. Yes, I'm violent. Yes, I'm probably the last thing you want your son to date. Believe me; I'm shocked too. Yes, I've done things that would make you lose your lunch. But in no way am I going to stand here and take your shit when you don't have a single, God,-" She smiles sadistically as my mom flinches. "-Damn _clue _what I've been through. Freddie's accepted me, and I will fight for that, every step of the way. I will give _everything_ to keep that respect and trust, and don't you _dare_ say I won't."

She's standing tall as she finishes, and my mouth is gaping. Coming from Sam, that was a public declaration of love and commitment. To me. Of all people, me. Holy shit.

And then my mom smiles, and I can almost feel my jaw on the tops of my scuffed vans. Am I missing something?

Apparently I am, because Sam and her step forward, sharing a firm handshake.

"That's all I wanted," My mom states proudly. "Backbone and a will to fight for my baby boy." I blush, and Sam starts laughing.

"I figured. Look, I'm not perfect, but I will fight with everything I have for this. It's worth it. I may not be, but he is." Sam says, and as I'm about to defend her, my mom clicks her tongue disapprovingly.

"Nonsense. You're clearly worth it if my Freddie has picked you." She says, turning to the door.

"Baby Freddie!" Sam chuckles, and I blush, half-glaring at the two women and still incredibly confused. I find it doesn't much matter, though, when my mom leads Sam and I inside and she steals a kiss behind my mom's back, squeezing my hand and dragging me forward afterwards.

**A/N: Shit, this is late. And short. Oh god, soooo shooort. Sorry. I should have more soon, just wanted _something _up_._**


	7. Chapter 7

**Alright. So. There obviously haven't been any updates on this in forever, and this is a note that's going up on all of my stories. Thing is, I'm not actually going to be posting anything on here. It's not that I've stopped writing (that's impossible) but I have lost total interest in this website. And I feel bad, because the support I've had here is lovely, and I genuinely thank each and every one of you for giving me chills with your reviews and reassuring me when I feel like I'm not good enough. **

**However, this website is something I've been on for a while, and while there are still some great writers here, I keep finding more and more fics with more mistakes then I don't feel that the quality has gone down at all, it's just my standards are ridiculously high and I'm extremely critical. I don't really want any replies on here, because I probably won't really bother to check.**

**Basically what I'm saying is that I'm moving. I have a writing tumblr that I will be using, as well as two main blogs. You can spam the fuck out of me on either of those and get a prompt response and feedback. I will post, as much as possible, and I will be active. So go ahead and see me there. Check my profile for the URL to both my writing blog, and a little bit down, my one of my main blogs.**

**Thanks so much for everything,**

**Summer**


	8. Chapter 8

**So I got an anonymous review and I want to address it as well as a few other issues.**

Random Dude: That's kind of a piss-poor attitude. **Do explain.** This site offers opportunity  
>for people to tell stories that otherwise wouldn't be able to be told. <strong>And I realize that, I love to read on here, but for me, posting is difficult and I'm not really consistent or even remotely fucking reasonable with posting in general anyways. <strong>I know  
>that some stories are not the highest quality, but you kind of have to take<br>the bad with the good. **And I do! I've never written a flame unless it was extremely, very necessary, once, and I love most of the stories I've read on here. It's just as I've said, I'm ridiculously critical and my standards are high. However, I didn't mean for the stories, for the site, which has pissed me off. ** Besides, you can always not read the bad ones. **I don't... **Maybe  
>you could even offer some constructive criticism. <strong>I can't. I come off as a bitch. Idk. <strong>I have enjoyed your story so  
>far, and I hope you reconsider leaving this site. <strong>I might. Maybe. If the demand is big enough and I can get a good following on tumblr and a cover made by someone that isn't me, I might.<strong>**  
><strong>

**So there's that, and I really don't want to come off as being bitchy at all, it was not my intention.**

**Moving onwards, please, don't favorite and follow this story and expect anything to be posted beyond this, except me replying to a review. I will not be posting new chapters, and I will not be updating anything on here for a while, if ever. Sorry. Feel free to hop onto my tumblr and request stories you want posted, either from here or a prompted scene you want, and I'll happily oblige. **

**I also responded in a review I've gotten that this is the only story on here I am not rewriting before posting to tumblr. So this will go up, all six chapters, with one request. Just, ask me on tumblr. Sorry for the total inconvenience of all this, and also for posting an update here and getting anyone thinking I've changed my mind. I just wanted to clarify a bit.**


	9. Chapter 9

**I am giving this site another chance, but rewriting most if not all of everything. Bear with me. Thanks for the support!**


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